


Bad Days

by Threshie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Comforting Sam Winchester, Crying Dean Winchester, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dean Has Self-Worth Issues, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Feels, Gentleness, Guilty Dean Winchester, Heartbeats, Hurt Dean Winchester, Implied/Referenced Abuse, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Platonic Wincest, Podfic Welcome, Protective Dean Winchester, Sharing a Bed, Touchy-Feely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 08:56:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16281530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Threshie/pseuds/Threshie
Summary: With all of the things the Winchesters have seen — all the things they’ve done, and had done to them — sometimes they have bad days. Today it’s Dean’s turn.





	Bad Days

With all of the things they had seen — all the things they had done, and had done to them — it was inevitable that they had some bad days. Today Dean was having a particularly bad one. The signs were there for a couple of days, signs Sam had come to recognize. 

Dean was quieter than usual. He didn’t joke as much, and he’d look distant if Sam looked away for too long. It was like a wave rushing to the shore, and there was nothing Sam could do but brace himself for when it washed over them both. 

“Dean?” Sam had gotten up early, as usual, to make a pot of coffee and go for a morning jog. Usually Dean was awake and had gotten to the coffee by the time he returned, but this morning he wasn’t. Even after Sam took a shower, when he returned to their room, Dean was still laying there in bed. The blankets were tangled around his waist, and he lay on his stomach, face buried in the pillow hugged between his arms.

Sam instantly knew it — the wave had hit the shore. 

“Dean,” he tried again, feigning annoyance as he sat on the edge of the bed. His brother didn’t move. Sam sighed, “The coffee’s going to get cold by the time you get to it, you know.” He placed a hand on Dean’s back, meaning to shake him awake, and quickly lifted it away again. 

Because Dean had flinched. Dean, who had always found his touch comforting. Dean, who didn’t flinch or leave his side even when Lucifer had the wheel and was making him bleed for his trouble. Sam felt sick to his stomach thinking about the Devil, so he shoved that thought aside, leaning forward to try and peek at Dean’s expression around the edge of the pillow. His brother had his face hidden in the pillow entirely, short hair a tousled mess against it.

“Hey… Dean, are you awake?” Sam said more gently.

“Mm,” Dean confirmed without lifting his head. His shoulders rose and fell in a slow sigh. Sam tentatively placed a hand on his back again, rubbing gently between his shoulders, and Dean didn’t flinch this time. He did sigh some more, though.

“Bad day,” Sam said — not a question, more of a sympathetic observation. He’d had his share of bad days, and of Dean caring for him through them. 

Dean’s head moved against the pillow, a tiny nod. Sam kept the hand on his back, rubbing slowly over his shoulders and sliding up to cup the back of his neck. 

“Can you look at me? …Come on, look at me, Dean, please.” He tried the ‘please’ when Dean gave no response at the first sentence. As he thought, his brother slowly rolled over onto his side, looking up at Sam with tired eyes. He never could deny Sam anything he really wanted. 

Sam felt how his own brows knitted in worry. Dean looked like he hadn’t even slept, with shadows under his eyes and a deep weary look in the depths of green themselves. And he was pale, too. 

“Bad day,” he whispered back hoarsely, swallowing. “Sorry.”

Sam scooted closer, a hand still cradling the back of his brother’s neck, and leaned over him.

“It happens,” he murmured, using his other hand to comb fingers through Dean’s hair, smoothing it back from his forehead. The gentle gesture made Dean’s face crumple with sorrow, though, his eyes glossy with unshed tears.

“S-Sam.”

“Tell me,” Sam encouraged, sliding into the bed beside him. He leaned against the propped pillows on the headboard, offering Dean his arms. His brother sat up a tiny bit, but only looked at him and sniffled, so Sam looped both arms around his waist and pulled him closer. “Talk to me, Dean,” he soothed, guiding his brother down to lay against his chest. Dean didn’t resist it, hugging an arm up around his neck immediately. He rested his cheek on Sam’s thin T-shirt and shuddered as tears slipped silently down his face. 

“F-forget it.”

Sam’s chest felt tight. Dean hardly ever cried, not even on the worst of days. What was eating him?

Running a hand over his brother’s back, the other slowly petting down his hair, Sam did his best to disguise the lump in his own throat. 

“Bad day rules,” he reminded, “I won’t judge. Won’t get mad at you, no matter what you say, just…talk to me. Is it about Hell?” He and Dean had both had their turns with breaking down over that. They could talk about it a bit now, but it would always be hard. Dean still had nightmares sometimes.

“No,” he said now, drawing Sam’s attention. He sounded broken about whatever it was, broken in a quiet way that broke Sam’s heart, too. 

He hugged Dean closer, protectively. 

“Dad?” He whispered. Dean responded with several tiny sobs, like he was trying desperately to be quiet with them, and Sam felt his eyes stinging with tears, too. There was so much he didn’t realize was going on, growing up. Things Dean shielded him from, sometimes with his own body. 

“S…Sammy, I’m sorry,” Dean said again, choking on the words. His hand near Sam’s neck was tangling in his long hair now, resting protectively over it. “We…s-sometimes, we had nothing, you had nothing, a…a-and that’s on me.”

This was about their childhood? He wasn’t making much sense.

“Shh, okay, just breathe,” Sam soothed, rubbing his back. “You were a kid, too, Dean.”

“No!” Dean insisted, voice hitching. He’d just managed to calm down, and that fell to pieces now, his voice getting watery again. “I-I screwed up, so you went hungry, that’s…that’s WRONG. Should’ve just been m-me, just punish me, s’my f-fault…” He dissolved into shuddering sobs, his whole body shaking in Sam’s arms.

“I’m okay, Dean,” Sam promised, heart aching. He knew the thought of him suffering bothered Dean more than anything else, so he focused on reassuring him about that. “I’m right here, and I’m okay…shhh, listen. You can hear my heart, right? It’s calm — you hear it? I’m okay.”

Dean was right, he never got to be a kid at all. Not really. Sam struggled not to feel guilty about that every day, but especially right now, today. Listening to his heartbeat had indeed comforted Dean, who had fallen to silence besides tiny sniffles and hitching sobs.

Sam kept petting his hair and rubbing his back, wishing he knew more about whatever had set this off. He didn’t want to press Dean to talk about it, but it sounded like one of the many times their dad had left them alone and charged Dean with getting money to feed them while he was gone. Dean, who was only in his teens back then, and nowhere near as good at hustling pool as he was now.

He’d done his best, though. Sam knew he’d gone without food so that his little brother could eat plenty of times. Guilt was chewing at him again, and he tried to focus on Dean.

“I’m okay now, you’re okay,” Sam whispered, stroking Dean’s cheek with his thumb. “We’re okay as long as we’re together, right? You’ve got me, and I’ve got you.” Dean looked up at him, such sadness in his eyes that Sam’s heart broke all over again for him. “A-and I’m not going anywhere,” he continued, his eyes burning. “I love you and I’m right here, Dean. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Dean managed, his voice still watery. He pulled a hand up to touch Sam’s face, too, brows furrowed sadly. “Y-you deserved better. I’m sorry, Sammy…”

Sam looked up at him with sad eyes. They’d both deserved better, really. That wasn’t Dean’s fault, though.

“You took care of me just fine, Dean, or I wouldn’t be here,” he reminded gently. 

Dean sniffled and scooted a bit higher, hiding his face in the side of Sam’s neck. Sam could feel more than see him nod.

“You’ve got me,” he murmured, “And I’ve got you. Love you, little brother.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, thanks for reading my fic! I wrote this to get some Dean feels out. Comments and kudos always appreciated!


End file.
